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  Name: Ghulam Mustafa Name of Institute: Pakistan Shorthand Institute (Ghulam Mustafa) Personal Assistant in Women Development Department, Punjab Civil Secretariat Lahore.

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700 Common Words Exercise No. 9 Longhand

It was a lovely river. It was wide and full of water in both summer and winter. In summer the water was usually blue, and its never-ending movement towards the sea was so peaceful that it could not be seen except by the most care observation. In winter the water often ran more quickly and the colour became blacker, but even so it continued to be a good river. It kept well within its high banks, it was clean, and it did not have places that were dangerous for the little sailing ships that used it as play-ground. Not all rivers are so kind to those who live near them. People used to live near or right on the banks of rivers because they required clean water for the many purposes of life. Today water can be brought to people over considerable distances, and it is not necessary to live near a river to exist. In these days people like to live near rivers because they like to look at them or to sail on them. There are very few of us who do not find happiness in sitting and watching a large body of water. Houses that have good views of a river or of the sea or of any other mass of water can usually be sold at a high price. There is always a demand for houses in such pleasing situation. High point was such a house. It was one of a small number of large house built on a piece of land some 200 or 300 feet above river and the little town through which it passed. A young woman sat at a wide window of high Point, reading a book. The evening light played on her golden colouring, and she was beautiful. She put down the book and looked out over the well-kept grounds of the house and down to the river. How lovely and peaceful it is here, she thought. There is still enough light for me to have an hour on the river in Flying Sails before the day quite dies. We have so few of these lovely days that we may as well make the best of them when we have the opportunity. Perhaps she did not use just those words but her thoughts were along those lines as she got up and moved away from the window and towards the open door. Penny! She cried. Penny Yes? Came a distant answer. What about an hour’s sail on the river before we go to bed? It is such a waste to go early to bed on a night like this. As she was speaking she had run up to her friend’s bedroom. Usually Penny would have come running out of her room very quickly at the thought of going on the river, for she dearly loved sailing, particularly in the evening or early morning when the lights on the water gave her wonderful ideas for her water-colour paintings. Young as she was, she was quite an expert in this art. She loved to spend a week or two at High Point, not only because she liked the company of her gold friend, whom she thought was the most beautiful girl she had ever seen, but also because there were wonderful ideas for her water-colour paintings. Young as she was, she was quite an expert in this art. She loved to spend a week or two at High Point, not only because there were wonderful views from the house on all sides. To the south there were the grounds failing away to the river, from the north were miles and miles of English countryside at its best. To east and west were large houses in beautiful grounds which, with little changes here and there, made good subjects for her pictures. Yes, she liked spending time at High Point with the weeks family. That evening, however, Penny did not come running from her room. She sat at the table looking with no pleasure at all at one of her paintings. What is the matter, Penny? Have you got the colours all wrong? Oh no, the paintings is good enough. It will do. This remark greatly surprised her friend because with Penny paintings did not just do. They had to be good, very good. no, she said again, the painting will do. But I am not coming out. She looked so different from her usual happy self that her friend went across the room to her. What is it? She asked. Penny put her head down and cried. It is your brother, she said. He is so wonderful, so much like you and he did not even speak to me or look at me before he went away this morning. And she cried again.